


Are you ok?

by valkyrienix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Confrontations, Gen, Meteor Shenanigans, Past Abuse, Post-Sburb, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:10:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4338839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrienix/pseuds/valkyrienix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are all these scars from?” Karkat asks after a while. It had been silent, and Dave had assumed it was because Karkat was putting an especially ridiculous amount of concentration into treating his wound just to make a point, but now he’s not so sure. Had he been mulling over the scars that criss-crossed their way over most of Dave’s body?</p><p>“Strifes,” he replies flatly.</p><p>“Well no shit,” Karkat replies with a roll of his eyes. “From who?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are you ok?

**Author's Note:**

> subtitled: "TT: Bitch is u gud?" by tumblr user nepeta-spurrite (thanks.)
> 
> anyway, something that ive been ruminating over! enjoy

TT: Are you ok?

\--

Every night, as he settles into sleep, he dreams of his death. He didn’t think that winning the game would give him the memories of every Dave that ever existed, but it has, and they flood his mind until he overloads, curled up against a wall, clutching his head, breath coming in short gasps if it came at all. He sees all manner of things. There are brief snippets of conversations that come before him, battles he’d never imagined, even memories his other selves had truly enjoyed. His deaths, however, come to him at night in vividly realistic dreams. 

In one, he is falling from the metal platform, hot steel that he had been holding onto for dear life slipping from his fingertips as sweat coats his fingers. Holding on is impossible, and in the last second, he lets go. There’s no point. There are other Daves to take his place. He feels the air rushing around him, quick and cool and then progressively hotter and hotter as he nears the pooling lava. Heat singes his back and then his arms and then his hair and suddenly he doesn’t know anything at all.

In another, he awakens from blackness to feel cold metal slide against his throat, followed by the warm sensation of blood trickling, washing down his chest, his neck a waterfall. He starts to numb, and then he blacks out before he can feel anything else.

Each night, he wakes up, bed and nightshirt soaked with his sweat. He ends up getting out of bed and changing his sheets nightly, shucking his clothes to sleep almost naked, favoring to keep his boxers on the off chance Bro might want to strife him again.

\--

TG: yeah sure totally fine  
TG: and by totally fine i mean i cant fucking sleep without envisioning my death millions of times and in millions of different ways  
TG: and it aint like im watching my deaths on some fancy silver screen or anything  
TG: no the game had to grant me the memories of every dave that ever deemed it alright to take a piss  
TG: and along with their memories comes their imminent deaths  
TG: its a goddamn first person player video game except you have some extra sensory bullshit going on and can feel everything  
TG: even though you know it isnt really you  
TG: i mean it is me but it isnt really me  
TG: did you know that i once died on the meteor  
TG: that clown fucking killed me in my sleep and i have no idea why  
TG: …  
TG: im sick of this rose  
TT: I understand completely.  
TT: Though the deaths I have experienced are trivial in number compared to yours, it’s more than a little disconcerting to realize that it was at least a version of myself dying.  
TT: The death of the Rose who eventually became… Jasprosesprite^2… resonates within me considerably.  
TT: Did anyone ever really explain her death to any of us, while we awaited the inevitable on that frog platform?  
TT: She. I had a trident go through my heart as I rushed to take vengeance on the Condesce for incinerating Kanaya.  
TT: Speaking of...  
TT: You haven’t heard anything from the trolls, have you?

\--

After winning the game, the world had gone white. The battlefront and the darkness of space had disappeared around them only to be replaced by a sterile white, almost like a hospital, but it had been endless. No floor could be found beneath their feet nor could they spot a ceiling above them.

The four of them had watched as the teenage versions of their guardians had dissolved into dust. Dave had felt some sort of regret watching Dirk’s form disintegrate, especially as he saw the look of horror spread across his face as he fell into oblivion. He had talked to Dirk a little, enough to open up about his feelings regarding his brother, enough to get it off his chest. Dirk had been similar enough to Bro that it felt like an actual confrontation, though later the results were different. Not necessarily in a bad way, but Dave still felt resentment towards Bro and his anger was left unresolved.

As the world had gone white and the young guardians had disappeared, he had felt all of time twist around him. There was a punch to the gut for each Dave that reentered him, as millions of the dead combined with him until he popped back into reality. He had come back to Earth lying across his bedroom floor, shades mildly askew and body once again in the form of a thirteen-year-old. Everything had ached, his chest and head especially, and he did not move from that spot for hours. When he finally did, all he could do was crawl into his bed and pass out.

Waking up, he had gone to check his pesterchum. The program was still up, but to his dismay, all of the trolls’ handles had gone grey, as if they had been deactivated. He’d spent some time staring at the words “carcinoGeneticist”, eyes wide and unfocused as he tried to regain some form of thought. His friends from Earth were still there, and each had messaged him a thing or two about their re-entrance into the real world, but his friends from Alternia had altogether disappeared. He’d responded pretty quickly to them each after bringing himself together, though he’d had no energy to really spout any of his usual metaphors. How could he when he felt as empty as he did?

\--

TG: no i havent  
TG: you havent even heard from kanaya?  
TT: Unfortunately, no.  
TG: yeah i havent heard so much as a single curse from karkat  
TG: or even a goddamn giggle from terezi  
TG: do you think the game just deleted them like they did with the scratched session  
TT: Well, we don’t actually know if the Scratched session even was deleted. There is the possibility that they also re-entered existence and we are simply unaware of their current whereabouts. Or, conversely, they exist in another universe entirely.  
TT: Although, I do hope their new reality is less unpleasant and isolating than their original one.  
TG: well if they did happen to enter the same world as us then theres the possibility that our alternate selves are also out there existing right alongside with them  
TG: and if i remember i was a fuckin hollywood celebrity and you were a damn famous author  
TG: so  
TG: i dont know about you rose but i havent heard so much as a single headline denoting the famous dave strider and his younger brother nor have i heard anything about rose lalondes sequel to whatever the hell your wizard slash book was  
TT: _The Complacency of the Learned._  
TG: right  
TG: that

\--

It had felt weird, readjusting to his body. Later on, after he had recovered and confirmed that Bro was indeed within the apartment, he’d made a getaway to the bathroom, where he’d sat in front of the mirror, running his hands over his face like he’d missed an old friend. It was with a mixture of wonder and amazement that his fingers had traced over acne that had been there before the game. He had remembered obsessing over one particular spot on his forehead, dreading school and dreading the thought of what people might think. He dreaded the thought that maybe Bro would comment.

The small red dot seemed trivial now. Inconsequential. In comparison to all the worries he had experienced in the last three years or so the dot seemed like the stupidest thing he could have possibly been worried about. Granted, there was some genuine fear in regards to Bro. The guy was unpredictable, and Dave’s heart raced each morning in preparation for whatever surprise he had in store. Since the game had ended, there had been nary a puppet in his face or so much as a sword to his gut. In fact, Bro had barely spoken to him at all. The most Dave had gotten was a call that some sort of meal was ready and to come and get it. That was pretty much it. Otherwise, Bro spent most of his time ensconced in playing on the Xbox, his shades and passive face giving little to no hint.

Dave wonders idly, as he sits eating a meal of leftover pizza and unfortunately warm apple juice, if Bro even remembered the game at all.

\--

TG: so ive got a question  
TT: And I potentially have an answer.  
TG: does your mom remember anything from sburb at all  
TT: Yes. She has informed me of her many adventures involving John’s father, actually. The detail at times got far too romantic for my tastes, but I listened.  
TG: well fuck  
TT: Hmm?  
TG: bro has barely said two words to me since the game ended  
TG: and to be honest im wondering if he even remembers  
TG: sure hes acting different and i mean i havent had to go up onto the roof in the entire month or so that weve been here  
TG: which admittedly is nice  
TG: im sick of sword fighting as shocking as that sounds  
TT: I share a similar sentiment regarding knitting.  
TG: hahaha oh fuck  
TG: jesus wouldnt wanna stain your prized wool with the blood of your enemies or anything right  
TT: Right.  
TG: make a new fashion statement or like a clothing line titled “rainbow blood” or some shit like that  
TG: make millions on the assholes out there who think wearing the blood of your enemies is actually cool and not even close to horrifying  
TT: Dave.  
TG: yeah sorry that wasnt even good  
TT: You were talking about Bro.  
TG: right right  
TG: anyway i havent gotten so much as a strife  
TG: and i guess maybe because cals influence has finally fucked off for the rest of eternity he doesnt seem to want to make my life a living hell  
TG: but being tormented for years by a demon puppet doesnt just vanish in an instant does it  
TG: so what the fuck does he just not remember  
TG: its like lil cal was never even here  
TG: and maybe he really never did give a shit about me and it wasnt just the puppet fucking things up beyond measure  
TG: this is killing me rose  
TG: please help me with your honorary skills of long distance skullfucking and explain to me what is going on with him  
TG: im lost as fuck and cant even begin to understand  
TG: help me obi wan kenobi  
TG: youre my only hope  
TT: As the residual Jedi-master among our group of friends, I will oblige to your request to “skullfuck” your brother wholeheartedly.  
TT: And my answer to your plea is thus:  
TT: Perhaps his silence is a measure of coping with the past.  
TT: Personally, I would be unable to swallow the mistakes and the pain I might have caused my ward while under the influence of a cherubic artificially intelligent troll possessed puppet.  
TT: I would proceed to mull over my mistakes and perhaps attempt to sort out the best way to perhaps reconcilliate.  
TT: In all likelihood, I would fail to come up with an answer, and resort to leaving you the hell alone.  
TT: His reasoning may be that he’s caused you enough hell, so why not just let you be?  
TG: thats a shitty conclusion  
TT: It is, really.

\--

During his three years on the meteor, Dave, and Dave as in he, the real Dave, had resorted to spending his time with Karkat. It was his conclusion that despite the amount of shouting the guy did, he was the only one worth hanging out with on the meteor. Sure, he had Rose, but Rose was in an essentially perpetual position of being lip-locked with Kanaya. He might have spoken with Terezi, certainly, but that would mean also spending time with Vriska, whom Dave had decided was absolutely intolerable. There was the juggalo, too, who for a short period of time had roamed the vents of the meteor, but that quickly ceased to be a problem as Vriska took control of the situation within the first year. Not only that, but Dave was fairly certain the asshole had a vendetta against him for linking him ICP.

So that left Karkat.

Well, the mayor, too, but sometimes a guy needed more than vague hand gestures and various indeterminable noises as a form of interaction. The mayor was cool as hell, but really. Sometimes he just didn’t cut it.

Being with Karkat was actually relatively enjoyable when he wasn’t waving his arms and shouting like the world was ending, which was pretty much always, but over the years he seemed to have calmed down a decent amount, allowing Dave to find spending time with him more and more tolerable. Still, it was unavoidable that they got into arguments, mostly because of Dave. He admittedly liked watching Karkat lose his temper at some points, and it would result in a shouting match, and in some cases, a strife.

Dave had never particularly enjoyed strifing, but over time, he’d gotten pretty damn good at it. After years of tirelessly “training” with Bro, his skills were nigh unbeatable, as unbearable and sickening as the training was. He put up a front, usually, that he enjoyed the shit out of strifing, because that was what a cool guy did, right? He was damn good at it, so of course he liked it. Why the hell wouldn’t he? Over time, he might have even convinced himself that he liked it. It was hard to see where he had managed to fool himself into liking it ended and pride for a talent began.

“God, you are so _infuriating_ sometimes, Strider, do you know that?” Karkat shouts one day, breathing hard, face covered in small cuts from the tip of Dave’s broken sword.

“Yeah, I’m pretty aware of that.” There’s a particularly deep wound in his own side, and he grips at it in a half-hearted attempt to staunch the bleeding. It doesn’t particularly hurt, but it’s a nuisance as it continues to soak through his shirt and trickle downward. Still, he allows himself a small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. Wounds or not, this had been fun.

“What part of ‘fuck right off’ is not in your vocabulary, you colossal _shitwipe?_ ” Karkat hisses through his teeth, black lips turning upwards in a snarl. He’s riling himself up all over again and Dave can’t help but let out a short laugh, which only succeeds in setting him off more. “What part of this entire shitfest is funny, Dave? What part? Because of you, we got into an actual, physical altercation and we’re both fucking bleeding! I fail to see how any of this is funny and an explanation would be extremely appreciated.”

Dave opens his mouth to respond with something probably under the classification of Grade A Douchebag but before he can get a word out, Karkat interrupts him, yellow eyes narrowing. “You know what, never mind! Actually, I couldn’t care less because it’s probably fucking stupid and senseless anyway.”

“Whatever, man, you were the one that shoved me first,” Dave responds as he limps over towards the nearest seat. “You can’t expect me to not retaliate or nothin’.” 

“Because _you_ decided to get within my personal space!” Karkat follows, collapsing beside him with a grand, dramatic huff. His voice is miffed, perhaps a little angry, but there’s no hostility behind it. He’d enjoyed this just as much as Dave had.

“Yeah, well, you were sayin’ some shit I didn’t approve of and it got a little heated. I had to step up the game and maybe get into your space to potentially get a little more out of you.”

“I will stand by my opinion of Troll Matthew McConaughey to the death, Strider, so fat lot of good that did you!” Karkat snorts, eyes trailing and face softening as his gaze falls onto the gash on Dave’s side. “Shit, why didn’t you say it was that bad?”

It’s Dave’s turn to snort, shifting his fingers to get a good look at the cut. It’s still bleeding, but not as badly, and the mild pain that had been radiating throughout his side has dulled to a soft ache now that he’d sat down. “It’s really not that bad, dude. It’ll heal up no big deal.”

“What the fuck ever, Dave,” Karkat replies tersely. “Seriously, we just got out of a fucking strife. I just watched you get your ass beaten by me personally, so you can drop the act. The coolkid persona has shattered. You are not cool, nor were you ever for that matter. You need to get the fuck over yourself, you inflated shitstick, and maybe acknowledge that you have a giant fucking scrape on your side that needs medical attention _immediately._ ” He reaches over to Dave’s side, touching the wound with one claw as gently as possible. It takes all of Dave’s strength not to flinch at the slight touch, but even all his strength clearly isn’t enough to fool Karkat. The look he gives Dave is a mixture of total exasperation, triumph, and concern. “See?”

“Yeah, yeah,” is all Dave can muster out.

He acquiesces a short time later to a primitive treatment in one of the many bathrooms scattered throughout the meteor. Karkat has him sit on the counter with his arms raised and out of the way and his shirt and cape removed as he dabs at the wound with a few towels and a lot of soap and water. It stings at first, but he keeps his protests on the downlow, and eventually he barely feels any sting at all.

“What are all these scars from?” Karkat asks after a while. It had been silent, and Dave had assumed it was because Karkat was putting an especially ridiculous amount of concentration into treating his wound just to make a point, but now he’s not so sure. Had he been mulling over the scars that criss-crossed their way over most of Dave’s body?

“Strifes,” he replies flatly.

“Well no shit,” Karkat replies with a roll of his eyes. “From who?”

Dave pauses, contemplating his response. He didn’t particularly feel like going into depth about Bro, especially so soon after his death. Soon was a relative term really, considering they’d been on the meteor for an expansive amount of time already, but it was close enough that Dave still felt weird bringing him up. Sure, he hadn’t loved the guy the way that John had loved his Dad or the way that Rose had loved her mom, but he’d looked up to him a considerable amount. The fact that the idol shrine or whatever it was that Bro had fought his ninja ass onto was now sitting empty an unused just felt weird.

He decides after a few moments of silence he may as well say. After all, Bro was dead, and it was time for him to get over it. It was an unnecessary weakness, and he had to get through it and quickly. Bro wouldn’t want him to grieve over something pointlessly. There was no time for weakness when the final battle loomed ever closer.

“My bro,” he says finally, and Karkat’s brows furrow. He pauses in his dabbing even, to look up at Dave with a questioning look.

“Your bro?”

“Yeah, my bro.” Dave shifts uncomfortably, lowering his arm a smidge to ease the ache some.

Karkat shakes his head, returning his attention back to the gash on Dave’s side. “That’s weird.”

“How’s that weird?”

“Aren’t your guardians supposed to be weirdly gentle with you or something? That’s the impression that I’ve gotten anyway,” is his reply. The dabbing at Dave’s side continues, though the wound has long since stopped bleeding and the God Tier magic has already set to work at healing it.

“Yeah, John’s dad was like that a lot,” Dave says, mouth turning downward in a slight frown. “I mean, just from what I gathered from talking to the dude constantly. The guy seemed almost overprotective of John. I had a lot more free reign, I think, compared to him. Bro never really paid attention to what I did honestly. I mean, at least, I don’t think the guy did. He was pretty aloof most of the time, you know? Doing cool dude shit that a hopeless Padawan like myself could only dream to achieve.”

Karkat’s silent, and he pulls out some bandages from his sylladex (what the hell was the guy even doing with that there? the game was pretty much on an extended hiatus was that really necessary?) and begins to bandage Dave’s side up.

“All of you humans are so stupidly optimistic,” Karkat says after another minute as he finishes the bandaging. His voice is gentle, despite the biting words. He presses a claw just as gently down onto the last part of the bandaging, and it’s finished. The tightness around the wound admittedly feels good, and Dave relaxes, leaning his back against the mirror and looking upwards as Karkat continues. “I mean, I just can’t wrap my thinkpan around John’s constant bright and sunny demeanor. Sure, some of my friends definitely were all hunky dory or what the fuck ever, but they knew what was what and when shit was about to go bad! You guys just… nothing ever phases you and it’s downright disconcerting.”

Dave shrugs, wincing as Karkat flicks his side with a claw to prevent him from moving and stretching the wound unnecessarily. “I dunno I guess that comes with not having the underlying desire to constantly kill each other.”

Karkat bristles at that, eyes narrowing into a glare. “Listen, asshole, not all of us have a death wish for people we know. We have to fend for our lives and take care of our lusii but at least that gives us the goddamn ability to not look through rose-colored glasses.” He glances upward from the bandages, pointedly looking at Dave’s shades, before back down.

“I never said my life was all daisies and daffodils,” Dave replies, and he pushes at his shades just as pointedly. “I had to fend for myself, too. I mean, Bro was nothing like John’s dad that’s for damn sure. The guy was pretty brutal about teaching me how to survive. But it was totally fucking necessary. I think he somehow knew that the game was about to happen and he wanted to prepare me for it. I had to find food on my own, fight for my life against him, not make any stupid attachments or betray any form of weakness. And look at me now--” he gestures at his god tier uniform with a smug look “--I’m pretty much at the premium level of the echeladder.”

“Get off your high hoofbeast for two fucking seconds, would you,” Karkat snaps, and he moves the toilet cover down so he can sit, too. “I don’t want this conversation to turn into the stroking of your already massively oversized ego. If you think that’s what this was, think again, because you are dead wrong.”

All Dave can do is snicker some, but he doesn’t say anything as Karkat’s face relaxes once again into something more thoughtful. “If anyone out of you humans had an upbringing even marginally close to ours, it would be Jade because of her barkbeast. She had to take care of him just as he had to take care of her. It was a mutual caring relationship that taught you how to survive in the world. She still ended up the most cheery out of all of you, unbelievably, but she probably had the most sensible upbringing. The rest of you bulgesniffers had a different upbringing entirely, where you were completely fucking coddled and spoonfed from day one. I really can’t process how any of you even made it through the game, let alone made it to fucking God Tier.” He side eyes Dave’s shirt and cape, lying on the bathroom floor, before looking forward again.

“I can tell you I sure as shit wasn’t spoonfed,” Dave says after a moment, chewing over what Karkat was saying. Compared to John, his life had been pretty different. Dave can’t remember ever having his birthday really celebrated the way John’s had been. John had complained his sweets-hating ass off about the cake and Dave had listened, all the while feeling snakes in his stomach twist and writhe with jealousy. He’d toned it down at the time, reminding himself that Bro was doing right by Dave, teaching him to battle, making him the ultimate cool guy, even if it meant having to go through different things than his friends, not having the same things as his friends. He can’t remember even actually being legitimately spoonfed. Granted, that was pretty much an early childhood thing, which no one remembers, but Dave may as well have been Matilda, taking care of himself and figuring things out from, at the very earliest, six years old. Bro had just gone off to do whatever it was that cool guys did was what Dave had always assumed. Bro didn’t have time to take care of the simple things for his young apprentice.

“Then what were you, Dave?” Karkat says expectantly, jarring him from his thoughts.

“Not spoonfed,” is all Dave can say, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach, and he grabs his shirt and cape, tugging it on and leaving the bathroom and Karkat, who sits there staring after him looking completely bewildered.

\--

TG: do you think were considered heroes rose  
TT: Am I not a Hero of Light and you a Hero of Time?  
TG: i mean real heroes  
TG: not senseless titles assigned to us based on our aspects  
TG: thats not an actual hero rose  
TG: shit i mean you could call that clown a hero of rage but was the dude really a hero  
TT: No, I suppose not.  
TG: then are we really heroes  
TG: we played a game that basically destroyed the earth along with some other pretty fuckin wild consequences i dont even want to get into  
TG: and basically did no one any good at all  
TG: i mean we even fucked up the consorts on our planets  
TG: so why the fuck are we considered heroes if all we did was save our asses and restart the world  
TG: thats not heroism  
TG: thats just like  
TG: fixing your mistakes i guess  
TT: In my personal opinion, I believe heroism is a spectrum.  
TG: oh no i dont want to hear anything to do with spectrums right now lalonde you can stop right the fuck there  
TT: Hear me out. Please.  
TT: Heroism can be doing something selfless, protecting and helping someone for absolutely no reason whatsoever other than having the heart to do it.  
TT: But,  
TT: Heroism is also having the ability to look back on your mistakes and acknowledge them, then proceeding to amend them.  
TT: You may not be a hero to anyone in particular, if ever, but you’re a hero to yourself and to your own integrity.  
TT: Deep down, you are cognizant that you are a good person and will remain so. I think that’s what we’ve achieved, along with a certain level of personal growth on all our parts.  
TG: thats touching but  
TG: i still dont feel like a hero

\--

He confronts Bro one night at dinner. It’s another meal of pizza, though it’s fresh rather than leftover, and some various pop that had been lying around the house. He’d been staring at his own pizza in silence, flicking a glance at Bro every so often to see if he was doing anything. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t. Bro was just eating, face just as passive as it always was, shades just as immovable as ever. It makes Dave’s insides boil with anger, and he finally blows the lid off the boiling pot.

“What the fuck?” he says, and drops his pizza onto his grease soaked paper plate.

Bro looks at him, a single brow raised and mouth mid-bite in a slice of meat lovers’ pizza. His complete and total lack of emotion, something Dave had once looked up to, now only serves to fuel the fire.

“You’ve barely said three words to me since the game was over,” Dave grits out. “Like I get it, maybe I’m being a selfish brat and holding the bar a little too high for someone who royally fucked up raising me but I couldn’t help but maybe have a measure hope that after the game was over things would be a little fuckin’ different.”

Bro’s silent, saying nothing. He’s frozen, not moving an inch, just staring at Dave. After a moment’s pause between them both, he finishes the bite, slowly, and then sets the pizza down. Dave’s not sure if he even chews it, he swallows so fast.

He goes on. “I almost preferred the constant strifes, honestly, because at least then you were paying some attention to me, acted like you maybe gave half a damn. For almost two years on the meteor I had convinced myself that you had put me through _hell_ just so that I could survive an entirely _different_ form of hell. But it turns out _that_ hell was nothing compared to my upbringing, or what’s happening now. It was actually pretty cool because I was with my friends who supported the shit out of me and actually gave a fuck what happened to me. I didn’t have to patch myself up because I had friends to do with with me.” 

He pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues. “So, you know, if you don’t give a damn, just fuckin’ say it and be out with it. Maybe then I can have some form of closure, a slice of certainty in a life filled with absolutely nothing but unpredictability. I mean, I don’t think that’s too much to ask, is it? I’ve gone to hell and back and all I ask is a few simple words that either tell me to stay or to leave. That’s all I fuckin’ want, Bro. Ain’t that hard to spit out.”

“What would you do if I told you to stay?” is all Bro says. His voice is quiet. It’s so quiet if Dave had been paying extraordinary attention to him, he wouldn’t have heard it at all.

With that, however, he doesn’t know how to respond. Did he really want to stay here? If he was being honest with himself, no, no he really didn’t. In fact, he wanted to be as far from Bro and this apartment as he possibly could. Even if Bro completely changed himself, Dave couldn’t imagine living with him any longer. Dave hadn’t even been able to look at Dirk without feeling something twist in his stomach.

“I would leave,” he says finally, and Bro nods, picking up his pizza again.

“I won’t stop you,” he says, and his voice is still quiet, but it’s audible enough now that Dave doesn’t have to strain to hear. “I was a shit parent. If I could go back and change it all, you bet I would, but I can’t. I won’t even blame my parenting on Cal, because honestly? The puppet only exacerbated traits I already had. I’m not fit to parent, nor will I ever be.”

Dave’s throat tightens. This is the most he’s ever heard out of Bro about anything remotely serious before. He’s expecting this to be the butt of some joke, honestly, but it’s not, because Bro just keeps talking, even going so far as to take his shades off to prove the legitimacy of his words. “It’s not that I didn’t care about you. I did. I mean I really fuckin’ did, Dave, but I didn’t know how to go about showin’ that, so I just did what I knew how to do. The extremity of my methods was a result of L’il Cal’s influence, but without him you still probably would have had some post traumatic shit to sort through because of me. And I don’t expect forgiveness from you, ever, nor do I expect you to accept this but… I’m sorry.”

Bro’s amber eyes bore into Dave’s through the aviators, and he can feel his eyes begin to water and his throat begin to dry out as the tears start to come. He can only nod once, incapable of producing words until he’s calmed himself. He takes a shuddery breath after a few moments of stuffing the tears back down his throat and says, “Why didn’t you say this before? Why keep quiet?”

Bro shrugs, and looks away, putting his shades back on. “I dunno, I just. I figured if you wanted to talk about it you would. I wasn’t particularly ecstatic about havin’ to have this conversation, and… maybe I was a little selfish in wantin’ to keep you here. Yet another certified dick move from me, I know, but I’m still kickin’ old habits, one at a time.”

Dave nods slowly, picking his pizza back up and taking a bite. Swallowing hurts after almost crying, but he does it anyway after having thoroughly chewed every last piece of salami and sausage. They both lapse into silence, the only noises coming from the greasy squelches of the pizza and the scrapes of the crust against the box. After they’ve both finished, Dave stands, wiping his fingers on a paper towel and dropping it into the box.

“I’m going to Rose’s,” Dave says after another minute of standing and regarding Bro thoughtfully.

“Okay,” he says, and he puts his empty plate into the box, too.

Dave swallows again, wondering to himself when Bro had become so small. He remembers when he was little and Bro seemed like this giant, someone to be revered and even feared. It’s like he’s shriveled in size, and he looks that much older for it. The guy was only thirty or so, but he looked like he’d seen and done more than he’d ever wanted to. That’s what a demon juju does to someone, though, is all Dave can really think.

“I don’t know if I’ll be back,” he says, this time more softly, unsure whether he truly will ever be back.

“Okay,” Bro says again, and he looks up at Dave now, finally, face having returned to its normal, passive expression.

“...I’ll let you know when I get there,” he says, and Bro only nods, seemingly surprised, but pleasantly so. His eyebrows jolt upwards, and that’s all Dave needs to leave the room and retreat to his own.

\--

Hesitantly, Dave raises his hand to the door and gives a short, sharp knock. He stands and waits, feeling the sluggish exhaustion sift through him from the plane ride. It’s only a few minutes before Rose answers, just as he remembered her from the game, but free of any Dersite or God Tier pajamas. She regards him thoughtfully, though her brows are furrowed and her violet eyes search his perhaps a little too hard.

“Are you ok?” she asks after a moment, and Dave can’t help but smile some.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”


End file.
